


Make a Deal With the Bad Wolf

by shealynn88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Monster Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-17 19:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: Dean is bitten and becomes something new.  If only he knew what, exactly, that something newwas.I got behind on the drabble challenges, so this is 5 related drabbles (sorta) for July and August.  Prompts I'm filling are:MOON, CRAVING, GRAFFITI, UNDERCOVER, PANIC, HEATEXTREMELY VAGUE spoilers for S9.  Otherwise, spoiler free.





	Make a Deal With the Bad Wolf

MOON

The full moon comes nine days after the bite; he's never felt anything like it. Not _monster_, not like he's seen them, just…_sharp_. Immediate. There for the taking. More scent, more color, more nuance in the shadow. More life packed into those full moon hours, a lifetime in a single night. Every touch is days worth, every scent has depth and emotion. He wants sex - bodies and warmth and sweat, that feeling of someone around him, coaxing him hard, cresting, falling soft and warm. Wants his fingers tangling in sweat-damp hair... 

He stays far away from everyone when that longing comes like hunger. Too many monsters have found themselves covered in blood after a longing like that. 

He's still not sure what he is.

CRAVING

There are a million cravings in the days after, as the moon is slowly swallowed by shadow and the tide-pull of it lessens. He orders his burgers rare, bloody. Skips the bun and the cheese, he's lost his taste for that and pizza, beer...anything not bloody. Sam cooks chicken perfectly and it tastes like death. 

Dean says he's never liked white meat anyway. 

He trades drinks at the bar for Jager in Baby's front seat - away from his brother's prying eyes and the hungry, sleek bodies of the barflies who would slide into stools next to him and test his resolve.

GRAFFITI

The symbol is scrawled on a wall in dripping paint, and then Sam finds it in a book. It follows a trail of bodies, and they follow it to a dilapidated Victorian. He and Sam get separated, and then he's in a room that smells like a beach at dawn and something like wildflowers. He's hard as a rock within thirty seconds, ready to pound anything in a two mile radius. A hand snakes around his calf and he points his gun down but can't pull the trigger. The girl there looks hungry, _wild_ with it. "Alpha," she murmurs, and the word, the way she says it, runs hot and prickling over his skin. "Please," she whimpers.

A shot rings out behind him and it all happens at once - the girl slumps forward, a sharp metallic smell rises in the air; rage fills him and he leaps for the door, for the _kill_.

Sam's eyes widen as they go down and Dean slams his fist into the floor three times before he manages to get control. "Dammit, Sam, she wasn't going to hurt anyone."

"Dean, your eyes..." Sam looks at him and there's concern there, and fear, and it brings up something inside him. Something glad. Something like a monster. 

UNDERCOVER

"Dean, at least let me come as backup. I'll just...stay in the car."

"No can do, Sam. They'll smell you a mile away. " He sniffs, gets vague sweat and sour irritation. "Nothing you can do to hide that." It's so different than the smell he remembers from the house. Spice and warmth and sweet...he avoids thinking of the girl. The one who died reaching for him.

The bar is on the outskirts. Like they always are.

"Jager," he says, and spins toward the sweet smelling boy two stools over. "Hey," he says, giving his best suggestive eyebrow. The smell warms.

"New in town?" the boy asks.

"Yeah, I am." His scent is probably telegraphing him, too. "What can you tell me?"

"You don't have to be so nervous. You new to this? Being a wolf? An alpha?"

Dean laughs, doesn't have to fake the way it cracks. "That obvious?"

The boy smiles. "S'all right. I'll give you some pointers. Wanna get outta here?"

He smells good, for sure. There's something extra sweet and sexy that's in the air now, and certainly Dean's dick has taken notice. But he's still afraid he'll hurt someone. "Can we...maybe next time?"

"Sure." The boy extends his hand. "I'm Garth."

PANIC

He's fine. He's gonna be fine. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself. The full moon is in five hours, and he doesn't even have to look at a clock. He _is_ a clock. More precisely, his dick is a clock. And it's letting him know in no uncertain terms that he's not getting off easy this full moon.

An insane giggle bubbles up, pushes into his mouth, a soft sound with a rush of air. Sam looks over and Dean can _feel_ the way he takes in the white knuckles on the steering wheel, the way Dean is holding himself away from the seat, ramrod straight, so his jacket falls over the semi he's had for the past two hours.

"I'm calling Cas," Sam says.

"Don't. We don't need him for this. I just have to...find another..." An omega, Garth had said. Told him to look for the symbol. That the omegas at those places would be looking, just like him. "Another thing like me."

"No. I know you're not telling me everything, Dean - Cas? Hey, it's Sam-"

Dean grabs for the phone half-heartedly, but he doesn't really want to kill them on these country curves, and even if _he_ thinks it's a bad idea, there are parts of him that don't.

HEAT

Cas assures them he can help, and Dean's trying too hard not to scent him to argue.

Not until they're closed into a room together, and Cas is nuzzling his throat and Dean is overheated like he’s gonna burn out of his skin, growling like some feral thing; his fingers are in Cas's hair and it all feels pretty damn right, except the moon won't always be full, and the angel won't always be there.

"Cas? What are you..." He tries to push him away but instead pulls him closer.

"Dean," Cas breathes. "_Alpha_. Tell me...tell me this is all right." He licks over Dean's pulse, over something Garth had called a scent gland. It feels like he just licked the head of Dean's dick. "Let me help you."

"Cas, _fuck_," and he's pressing him against the door, smelling rain and nostalgia and something like the ash of a dying fire, and it smells raw, like home, and he's always been afraid of that. But now the moon has stripped the fear away and all that's left is Cas, and too many clothes and too many regrets and this moment to put all of that behind them.

"_Mine_," Dean snarls into Cas's shoulder. He presses the coat down Cas’s arms, sets teeth in that shoulder until Cas arches into him. He struggles with that stupid excuse of a tie, _needing_.

"Yes, Dean," Cas whispers. "Always." 

Their limbs tangle as Cas finds the knot Dean's been tightening; he unwinds it with long and patient fingers.


End file.
